Heart of a King
by Nebride
Summary: An Elf loves only once in a lifetime, but Thranduil finds his heart undergoing a change while in Ithilien.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to "Heart of a King". This is a companion piece to "The Griffon's Tears". If you are unfamiliar with the Legolas/Alede adventures then sadly, this small tale will make no sense what so ever! lol I highly recommend reading first:  
  
1. "The Road to Isengard" 2. "The Caverns of Mirkwood" 3. "The Faerie Goblet" 4. "The Griffon's Tears"  
  
But if you are a returning reader to the Legolas/Alede adventures, then I have a little treat in store for you. Many of you have expressed your appreciation for King Thranduil and the tragic she-Elf, Romiël. I initially intended to add their story to the chapters of "Griffon", but thought that Thranduil would be better pleased with his own separate story. The chapter titles will keep you up to date on where we're at in the real story.  
  
Enjoy and as always, thanks for reading! ~ Nebride :D  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
HEART OF A KING  
  
Chapter 1 ~ Coincides with chapter 14 of Griffon  
  
King Thranduil strode to his balcony and looked out over his son's kingdom of Eryn Culhallas. Above him the breathtakingly beautiful Culhalla trees swayed gently with the dawn breeze causing his own dwelling to sway as well.  
  
The King relished the movement. His own kingdom, safe with in the caverns of Mirkwood's mountain, was much too still for his restless Wood Elvin blood. But it had been the stronghold of his family for ages and his pride in it ran deep.  
  
Below, voices drifted up to him, pulling him away from thoughts of Oropher and back into the present. Thranduil ignored the Elves walking upon the many paths of Eryn Culhallas and focused his intense gaze upon the healer who was entering the Great Hall.  
  
The main floor of the fabulous building contained Legolas' throne room and his council chambers. Since it was built upon an incline, these first rooms looked out upon the lush forest floor. But at the very back, the building delved into the hill and the vast kitchens where actually underground. Above them, on the next floor, absorbing the heat from the kitchen, lay the healer's hall. Its windows faced south to better absorb the afternoon's sunlight and the many balconies were nearly at ground level due to the rise in the hill.  
  
On the top floor, were the guest chambers, two of which were occupied by the dratted wizards.  
  
Thranduil's lip curled at the thought of them. He still was furious with Radagast the Brown. The impertinent man had actually cursed him during an argument! And with a beard no less!  
  
Wizards were not to be trusted in any case. Gandalf the Gray had been decent enough, but still mysterious. The Istari seemed to enjoy playing riddle games, something which Thranduil had no patience for. Saruman had been the worst of them and the two times that Thranduil had consulted with the head of the White Council, he had detested him. It was rather gratifying to know that his opinion of the wizard had been correct. Even more gratifying that he was gone.  
  
Thranduil's gaze snapped down to the entrance of the Great Hall. More under-healers had arrived at the Great Hall to relieve the nightshift and what was more important, his nephew Galomir had just arrived.  
  
Thranduil straightened his tunic and trotted easily down the many stairs from his guesthouse to the forest floor.  
  
Alede always arrived before Galomir. That Thranduil had not yet seen her meant that his guess was correct and she was not coming today. Legolas had been itching with mischief the night before at dinner and Thranduil had predicted that his energetic son was ready for a day of play, instead of attending his courtly duties. It was no surprise then that he had dragged Alede off on whatever adventure he had planned.  
  
Thranduil smiled as he strode across the forest floor to the Great Hall. If Alede were not there, then he would be able to see Romiël. The wizardess had been guarding her like a dragon over a treasure and had forbidden him entrance to the she-Elf's rooms. But with only Galomir to guard her . . . Thranduil smiled again.  
  
Bullying his brother's son would be no trouble at all.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Romiël woke once again to darkness. For a moment, she lay still and hoped against hope that the darkness simply meant that it was still nighttime. But sounds drifted up through the floor, the rattle of pots and pans, the clang of cutlery, telling her that the kitchens were already in use.  
  
Delicious smells wafted in through her partially opened windows, making her stomach growl with anticipation.  
  
With a sigh, she opened her eyes.  
  
Even after four days of being under the healer's care, Romiël was still sleeping with her eyes closed, a sign of ill health and weakness in an Elf. But Alede had assured her that she was beginning to heal and that it would take time.  
  
A lot of time.  
  
*But I have lost seven hundred years!*  
  
Romiël squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that she knew would fall.  
  
*I never used to cry!*  
  
A knock at her door snapped her eyes open again and she called out.  
  
"Come in." Struggling to sit up, Romiël tried to paste a smile on her face to greet Alede with.  
  
But to her surprise, it was Galomir instead.  
  
"Good morning, Romiël. Did you rest well last night?"  
  
"Well enough," Romiël hedged. She looked past Galomir. "Is Lady Alede . . ."  
  
"She will not be here this morning. I received a message from Lord Legolas saying that she would not be available this morning. I will attend you, if that is acceptable?"  
  
"Yes, of course," Romiël said quietly, trying to hide her disappointment. Alede had a calmness about her that Romiël found reassuring. "I hope that Lady Alede is well?"  
  
Galomir smiled as he set his tray of medicines down. "I am certain that she is fine. I know that our Lord is concerned that she is still fatigued from her journey. She had only just arrived from Rivendell when they set out for Mordor. And she and our Lord are newly betrothed as well."  
  
"Indeed?" Romiël asked. "How soon do they wed?"  
  
"Our Lord has not yet announced the day, but we expect them to marry before next summer. Now, let me call in one of the she-Elves to assist you . . ."  
  
This was one of Romiël's favorite times of the day. Normally Alede would help her wash and brush her hair. Then in the evening, she could soak in a tub of hot water, delighting in being clean and easing the ever present aches in her body. But since they had re-set Romiël's leg and arm, she had to settle for a bath with a cloth only. Still, Galomir's assistant made her comfortable with a clean nightdress and a special salve that was rubbed into all of her scars.  
  
"Your bones are healing well," Galomir remarked. He had very gently opened the splint that encircled her arm. The splints were made of a stiff reed, woven into a mat. Small slats of wood reinforced it and leather lacings bound it securely to the broken limb. "I think that in another couple of weeks, it will be healed. Your leg however . . ."  
  
Galomir gently looked at her leg and when Romiël flinched in pain, he carefully wrapped up the splint again. "Your leg will take much longer, I fear. Stay in bed again today. I will have someone bring in your breakfast."  
  
"Make that two breakfasts," said a voice behind Galomir.  
  
The healer jumped and spun around. "Uncle!" Stuttering, he amended himself, "I am sorry, my Lord. I am afraid that Romiël is not yet allowed visitors."  
  
"Indeed," Thranduil strolled across the room like a large predatory cat. "On her night table are books from my son's library, there are flowers which I watched that clumsy oaf of a dwarf gather yesterday. The griffon lounges outside her balcony when the sun warms the forest floor." He turned deliberately toward Galomir with an imperious eyebrow raised. "Are these not visitors?"  
  
Galomir started to open his mouth, but Romiël cut him off.  
  
"It is all right Galomir."  
  
Reluctantly, the healer nodded and left the room. Thranduil sat down in the chair next to the bed.  
  
"You asked not to see me." It was a statement, not a question and Thranduil was surprised when her face revealed that he spoke the truth. "Why?"  
  
Romiël's eyes dropped. "I am not . . . I was not," she amended, "a vain woman. But now . . ." she trailed off uncomfortably, looking down at the scars that threaded over her arms like webs of evil. There were more on her legs and chest. But the worst ones were on her back where they flogged her over and over until there had been no skin left.  
  
Thranduil waited, saying nothing, though there was much he wished to say. He cared nothing for her scars, save as a symbol of what she endured. But he had learned from all his years of dealing with victims of Orcs, that each feeling, no matter how absurd they might seem to him, must be felt.  
  
"I told Alede of my . . . discomfort and she said that she would keep you from seeing me. And," Romiël looked up with her huge gray eyes, "she has given me a salve which she says will diminish the scars over time."  
  
"Is that what that smell is?" Thranduil asked lightly, sitting back in his chair and wrinkling his nose. "I thought there was something rather pungent about you when I first entered the room."  
  
Romiël laughed softly in spite of herself, realizing what Thranduil was doing. Instinctively she knew he did not find her ugly, but could not help the feelings that arose within her.  
  
"Thank you," she said. "Everyone has been so kind to keep my spirits up. In truth, I know not why I am sad. I have every reason to rejoice. All of my remaining clan have been rescued, I am safe and well cared for, but . . ."  
  
"But you do not feel safe and your heart is full of misery," Thranduil finished.  
  
"Yes," she said looking up in wonder.  
  
"It is natural," he replied. "I would take these feelings away from you if I could, but I cannot. You must endure them and with time they will fade."  
  
Oddly, Romiël found his words comforting. But before she could speak, there was a knock at the door and an under-healer came in carrying a tray.  
  
"My Lord," he said nodding to Thranduil. "I will assist Romiël while she eats . . ."  
  
"Nay, you will not," Thranduil said, rising and taking the tray from the startled Elf.  
  
"But. . . but my Lord . . ."  
  
"That will be all," Thranduil said dismissively and Romiël had to hide a grin of amusement at the stunned look on the healer's face. Thranduil ignored him with the supreme arrogance of royalty, knowing that his wishes would be carried out.  
  
After opening and closing his mouth a few times, the Elf left, closing the door behind him. Thranduil took the tray out onto the balcony and returned for Romiël.  
  
"Now, if you will just put your arms about my neck . . ." He lifted her easily, feeling every bone in her emaciated body beneath the thin wrapper of her nightdress. Depositing her gently in one of the chairs, he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and sat beside her.  
  
During breakfast, which he fastidiously helped her with, they talked of small things. Thranduil pointed out trees and flowers native to Ithilien and Romiël rejoiced in watching the small colored birds as they flitted from tree to tree.  
  
Thranduil's voice was soothing, like deep velvet. He demanded nothing of her and asked no awkward questions. For the first time in centuries, she relaxed.  
  
They would have stayed there at the small table for much of the morning, if Romiël's joints had not started to ache. She made a small noise of dismay finally, interrupting Thranduil.  
  
"Are you in pain?" he asked immediately.  
  
"I am sorry," she said in frustration. "Would you mind taking me back to bed?"  
  
He did so immediately, tucking her in gently.  
  
"My body aches so," Romiël explained apologetically. "Alede said that the cold of the dungeons has soaked into my bones. I feel like those crippled old men that one sees in the villages sometimes. The healers say that it will probably not go away," she ended sadly.  
  
Thranduil gazed at her for a moment. A strange feeling was building inside of him because of her words. He felt as if all his rage and all his love could burn away the ache inside of her. Dropping down to sit upon the mattress suddenly, he grasped her arms hard enough that she cried out in pain.  
  
Heat and light radiated from his hands, engulfing Romiël in a golden glow. She cried out again, this time in fright as liquid flames coursed through her veins. Heat seared her, burning its way into her bones, into her very mind.  
  
With a sudden gasp, Thranduil released her, sagging where he sat and breathing hard as if he had just run up a mountain.  
  
Romiël blinked and pulled in a shaky breath. The pain was gone and in its place her body felt as if tiny rainbows were wiggling around inside of her. She flexed her ankle experimentally. The ache in her joints was gone.  
  
Completely gone.  
  
"What did you do?" she asked, smiling up at him in amazement.  
  
But Thranduil did not answer. Instead he stared down at his hands as if he had never seen them before. But another emotion slowly overcame his surprise and Romiël watched as guilt and then intense regret filled his eyes.  
  
With a wordless cry, Thranduil rose from the bed, flinging himself from the room. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Romiël in stunned silence.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
A/N: Hmm, what's troubling Thranduil, I wonder? Could his past be catching up to him? Find out in chapter 2, coming soon. :)  
  
*** Original Character List ***  
  
Romiël - A she-Elf captured 700 years ago by Sauron as her people were making their way to the Gray Havens.  
  
Alede the Green - Witch, healer and wizard. She is daughter of Radagast the Brown and Legolas' betrothed. (But then, you already knew that. ;) lol  
  
Maladok the Red - The fifth Maia sent to Middle Earth. After falling prey to an evil witch, he was changed permanently into a magnificent griffon. He flew Romiël out of Mordor after her release.  
  
Malina - A healer and witch of the Angmar Mountains. She was married to Radagast the Brown and was Alede's mother. She was killed by a mob of religious fanatics who thought her witchcraft had brought plague to a village when instead she had been trying to cure it. Alede was only sixteen when Malina was killed.  
  
Galomir - Ithilien's healer, son of Lomomir and nephew to King Thranduil.  
  
Romion - Romiel's brother and also a captive of Sauron for 700 years. 


	2. Chapter 2

{{Sorry about the delay everyone. FF.net's upload feature has been down since Thursday! GRRRRR!}}  
  
HEART OF A KING  
  
Chapter 2 ~ Just after chapter 14 of Griffon (4 days after their return from Mordor)  
  
"And then he ran from the room as if stricken with guilt," Romiël explained to Alede the following day after Thranduil's strange behavior, wringing her hands with worry.  
  
Alede frowned and Romiël could see her considering the story. After a moment the healer once again kneaded Romiel's joints and the she-Elf still could not believe the lack of pain she felt.  
  
Whatever Thranduil had done, it had worked magic on her.  
  
Finally, Alede stood up. "Try not to worry. I have an idea what may be troubling him." She gave Romiël that comforting smile of hers and patted her good arm. "I will go and speak to him. Continue resting. I will return this afternoon."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Thranduil paced irritably amongst the rows of lavender. He was consumed with guilt, an emotion that was normally alien to him and because of it had found no rest the night before. In frustration, he raised his hand to rake his fingers through his golden hair, but they snagged instead upon the royal circlet. With a frustrated gesture, he whipped it off and hurled the gold crown into the field, not caring where it landed.  
  
He was so distracted by his thoughts, he did not even notice the sound of hoof beats or see his stallion raise his elegant head.  
  
"A costly item to toss away," a voice said quietly behind him.  
  
Thranduil whirled around and found Alede holding his circlet and regarding him with that calm gaze of hers.  
  
Irritably Thranduil turned his back upon her.  
  
"I suppose you have come to find out what I did to your patient," he snapped.  
  
"Not exactly," she replied. "Romiël is concerned about you and since she cannot walk yet, I came in her stead."  
  
He winced as another pang of guilt shot through him. He should have explained to Romiël, not left her to wonder.  
  
I am King! I need not explain myself to anyone, he thought angrily. But he knew it was not true. He would ease Romiël's worry as soon as he knew the cause of it himself.  
  
"How did you find me?" he asked. He knew he was stalling. He also knew that Alede was fully aware of that fact as well.  
  
"I didn't. Faunlend found her father."  
  
Thranduil turned and glared at the mare, the daughter of his own stallion. But Faunlend well remembered Thranduil's temper and gave no heed to it. Instead she bobbed her head and blew gently, pricking her ears at him.  
  
Thranduil snorted and turned to Alede. The healer had gathered up her skirts and sat down upon the ground. The lavender came up to her shoulders and bees hummed busily around her head.  
  
"So, what did you do to my patient?" Alede asked, a small smile upon her face. Thranduil realized with chagrin that she was beginning to understand him perhaps even better than his family did. Somehow she knew that he avoided a greater issue than the one of his surprising healing abilities.  
  
He clasped his hands behind his back and paced up and down the rows.  
  
"Has Legolas told you that he nearly died when he was born?"  
  
"No." Alede sat up in surprise, her eyes widening.  
  
"He was premature. My wife had taken a fall from her horse when a spider attacked the path we were on. It was intended as a gentle ride, she was so tired of being in the palace . . ." Thranduil shook his head slightly at the memory. "I slew the spider, but the fall brought on her labor too soon. When Legolas was born, he was blue and we could not get him to breathe."  
  
"He probably drowned in the amniotic waters," Alede said, her voice trembling a bit.  
  
"Yes," Thranduil agreed. "That is what Lomomir said. I held my son's lifeless body in my hands. He was so tiny . . ." Thranduil paused a moment, remembering. "A strange sensation filled me, as if I had swallowed the sun. The light and the heat seemed to burst from me. I could not contain it." He shuddered at the memory. "When I could focus again, Legolas gave a tiny little gasp, shuddered and then began crying."  
  
Thranduil stopped in his pacing and faced Alede. She sat, still among the lavender, but he could see from her face that she was analyzing all that he had told her.  
  
"Lord Elrond had such an ability," she said finally.  
  
"Did he?" Thranduil was surprised. He had never heard of it.  
  
She nodded. "You know that Elladan and Elrohir spent much time hunting Orcs. Once, Elrohir came home alone. Elladan had been caught in an avalanche of stone and Elrohir had not been able to extract him, so he had ridden to Rivendell for help." Thranduil saw her shudder. "It was the only time Elrohir ever rode a horse to death."  
  
She cleared her throat. "I went with them and once we had gotten Elladan out, it was obvious that his leg would have to come off. I could see no way to save it. But Elrond laid his hands upon him, light shot from his fingertips and Elladan's leg was restored."  
  
She looked up. "I suspect that this is an inherited trait of Elvish royalty, an ability to heal the people you care about, much like the magic Legolas used to turn the hurricane from Eryn Culhallas. Elrond was never able to use it with as great an effect on others, though he did use it some. I think the hobbit, Frodo Baggins benefited from that ability when he was injured by the Nazgul. Lady Galadriel probably has the same powers, but I have never met her. You could ask Gimli. He might know."  
  
Thranduil snorted, not certain if Alede were teasing him. It would be a cold day on Mount Doom before he would ask the Dwarf's advice. He started to reply, but Alede spoke first.  
  
"I am guessing there is more to this," she said looking up solemnly. "I am guessing that when your wife died, this ability failed you. That is why you felt guilt in healing Romiël. Am I right?"  
  
Thranduil turned away abruptly. Alede's insight did not surprise him. He had suspected that she would guess the cause. "I tried to heal my wife several times when she was ill, but the light would fade away and she would writhe in pain. She begged me to help her . . ." He had to swallow around the lump in his throat.  
  
Lost in his memories, he did not hear Alede approach until he felt her hand upon his arm.  
  
"It was not your fault. You did not fail." Her voice sounded reassuringly sincere. Thranduil wanted to believe her.  
  
He desperately wanted to believe her.  
  
"But my wife died . . ." he said finally, his twilight eyes betraying the turmoil in his heart.  
  
"The Greymalcin," Alede said. "It was a creature of dark magic, remember? It would have absorbed your healing powers or been immune to them. Nothing could have saved her except for the method we finally used on the Greymalcin that invaded your body."  
  
Thranduil frowned. Well did he remember puking his guts out because of that horrid creature. But he shook his head, regret still plaguing him.  
  
"If I had sent for you sooner . . ."  
  
"You sent for Elrond, not I," Alede reminded him. "I know not if Elrond knew of Greymalcins or not. Legolas was actually the one who realized what kind of creature it was . . ."  
  
"Nevertheless," Thranduil interrupted. "Had I sent for you sooner, the diagnosis might have been made that much sooner and my wife might still be alive. Between the two of us, she might have lived!"  
  
Beside him Alede remained silent and he knew that she too, was remembering the scene that followed his wife's death. He had been mad with grief, nearly out of his mind.  
  
He took a deep breath. This was one of the hardest things he had ever done.  
  
"I was wrong, Alede. I hope that you will see it in your heart to forgive my rash actions." He did not look at her when he spoke, but when the silence stretched on for several moments he finally glanced down at her.  
  
Tears sparkled in Alede's eyes and she gave him a watery smile. "I forgave you a long time ago," she said quietly, "when I knew that I was in love with your son."  
  
Thranduil cleared his throat and straightened his tunic. "Good, well . . ."  
  
Alede handed the golden circlet to him. "Go explain all of this to Romiël. She deserves to know and she cares deeply for you already."  
  
He glanced down at her in surprise, but Alede merely smiled at him and nodded him on, leaving the subject of Thranduil's feelings toward Romiël unspoken.  
  
Thranduil walked to his stallion.  
  
"One more question," Alede called after him as he mounted. "Was that the reason you and your wife had no more children, because of Legolas' difficult birthing?"  
  
"Nay," Thranduil shook his head. "Ask Legolas the reason. I came upon him when he was a child explaining to his little friends why he had no younger siblings. He said it was because he was perfection and my wife and I feared for the inferiority of any further children."  
  
And then he urged his stallion into a canter, leaving Alede and her laughter behind.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
A/N: And just what will Thranduil say to Romiël, I wonder? ;) Find out in the next chapter! :)  
  
Special thanks to Thecla, who is the real genius behind Alede's healer's knowledge. ;)  
  
Thanks to all of you for your wonderful comments. I adore Thranduil and always have. In a way, he is more complex than any of the other Elves. He is so full of fire and conflict, impatience and strength.  
  
I have a pretty clear picture of him in my head now too. For those of you who have the "Harry Potter - Chamber of Secrets" DVD watch the interview with Jason Issacs. He's in costume and make up for Lucius Malfoy, but of course he's out of character and not wearing the Malfoy sneer. *That* is Thranduil. Now just give him Alan Rickman's velvety purr and you've got the whole picture. ;) (And for those of you still not convinced about Alan Rickman - rent "Sense and Sensibility" with Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet.)  
  
** Firnsarnien - I've always heard that Elves had no facial hair whatsoever (like the Native Americans, maybe?). I don't remember if the Professor himself said that or if one of the scholars who studied him did. There was only one Elf in ancient history (and I can't remember his name, darn it!) who had a beard. But Thranduil certainly did not and yes, I picture him as looking quite young, probably 30s. Hope that helps. :)  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
*** Original Character List ***  
  
Romiël - A she-Elf captured 700 years ago by Sauron as her people were making their way to the Gray Havens.  
  
Alede the Green - Witch, healer and wizard. She is daughter of Radagast the Brown and Legolas' betrothed. But then, you already knew that. ;) lol  
  
Maladok the Red - The fifth Maia sent to Middle Earth. After falling prey to an evil witch, he was changed permanently into a magnificent griffon. He flew Romiël out of Mordor after her release.  
  
Malina - A healer and witch of the Angmar Mountains. She was married to Radagast the Brown and was Alede's mother. She was killed by a mob of religious fanatics who thought her witchcraft had brought plague to a village when instead she had been trying to cure it. Alede was only sixteen when Malina was killed.  
  
Galomir - Ithilien's healer, son of Lomomir and nephew to King Thranduil.  
  
Romion - Romiel's brother and also a captive of Sauron for 700 years. 


	3. Chapter 3

HEART OF A KING  
  
Chapter 3 ~ Still just after chapter 14 of Griffon, four days after return from Mordor  
  
When Thranduil knocked on Romiël's door, he received no answer. The logical assumption was that she was asleep and anyone else would have returned later. But Thranduil was of an inquisitive nature and also not one to be denied, so he opened the door quietly and looked in.  
  
The sight before him was not at all what he expected.  
  
Leaning far over the balcony rail, with her nightdress plastered to her posterior was Romiël. Thranduil stepped into the room and raised his eyebrows.  
  
While the posterior in view was still much too thin, he did recognize that it had a pleasing shape. Thranduil pushed aside several raucous thoughts that sprung to mind and walked up behind her.  
  
"You seem to have a penchant for hanging off of this balcony," Thranduil said and then only his Elvin reflexes saved him from getting a black eye as Romiël straightened and whirled, her hand lashing out defensively.  
  
Thranduil caught her wrist and watched as the primitive fight in her eyes dimmed to shame.  
  
"You startled me," Romiël said, dropping those haunting gray eyes.  
  
Thranduil gently caressed her wrist for a moment before letting go. "Did I injure you?"  
  
Romiël rubbed her tender skin and the King could see that it was reddened where he had caught it. She was still so thin that the slightest abrasion caused bruising.  
  
"I am all right. I have suffered worse," she said bitterly and Thranduil recognized the symptoms of a mind that wanted to heal, but was having difficulty getting on with the task. He needed to begin working with her. He needed to talk to her as well . . . eventually.  
  
"I suppose I need not ask if you are feeling nervous," he said gently, avoiding subjects that he was not ready to discuss yet.  
  
Romiël laughed a little then and ran hands over her arms as if she were cold. "I jump at the slightest sound. It is so strange." She shook her head sadly, "During my . . . imprisonment, I reached a point where I did not care what they did to me. I did not even react. It was as if I lived in a fog."  
  
"But the fog has lifted and your mind now recognizes the atrocities that were done to you and you are prepared to fight so that they do not happen again."  
  
Romiël looked up at him then. "You are so wise," she said with a touch of envy in her voice. "How do you know such things?"  
  
"I have had much experience with Orcs and their foul ways," Thranduil said. He leaned his hands against the railing and looked down at her casually. He was not ready to discuss yet why he had left so abruptly the other day. It would mean revealing feelings that he typically revealed to no one. It was far easier to talk about Romiël's troubles, though that was hard enough.  
  
At least for now.  
  
"You will heal, Romiël," he said quietly, remembering one who had not healed all those years ago. But he would not fail Romiël as he had failed Unilyn.  
  
"You sound so certain," Romiël replied just as quietly, "but my mind is like a battered animal in the cage of my own fears. I thought that returning to Mordor and facing it would help, but it has not."  
  
"I believe that it did actually," Thranduil disagreed. "What you did took tremendous courage. In time that courage will sink back into your soul and your mind will recognize it for what it is."  
  
He shifted so that the side of his hip leaned upon the rail. "Now, what was it that caught your interest so?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject. The tension in Romiël's face told him that she needed some distraction from her thoughts. They would need to delve into her pain slowly.  
  
"They are baking sweet cakes in the kitchen today!" Romiël answered and her voice was practically a wail. "I can smell them!" She waved in the direction of a kitchen window set at the level of the ground just to the left and below her balcony.  
  
Thranduil could not help the chuckle that escaped him. "If you long for some, then I will have a servant . . ."  
  
Romiël shook her head, interrupting him. "They will not let me have any."  
  
"Nonsense! They will not deny my order."  
  
"Alede says that I am not to have any sweets for another week," Romiël said with some irritation, another sign that she was beginning to heal. "I am to eat only bland foods until then." She pouted up at him rather prettily.  
  
The pout momentarily robbed him of speech, even though he knew she did it deliberately. Obviously the Orcs had not taken her sense of humor. Thranduil had a feeling he would enjoy encouraging it.  
  
He had to clear his throat before he could speak.  
  
"Then I will fetch the cakes myself and they will not stop me."  
  
"No, please do not," Romiël, said, placing a small hand on his arm. "They will tell Alede and she will scold me."  
  
Thranduil raised a brow. "Is Alede such an ogre?"  
  
Romiël laughed. "Nay, but she is very strict about my health."  
  
Thranduil considered for a moment. If he knew his soon to be daughter-in- law well enough, he would guess that she was being overly cautious. Alede was fiercely protective of her patients. Prisoners were always given bland food for the first few days, but Romiël was past that stage. Coming to a decision, he unfolded his arms.  
  
"She will not scold, if she does not know." With a wicked wink, he swung himself over the balcony and dropped lightly to the ground heading in the direction of one of the small ground level windows.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Romiël watched him with her lips caught between her teeth. Thranduil was an impressive Elf. He was tall, as all Elvin males were, but he was also broad of shoulder, not bulky like a man, but noticeably more brawny that most Elves. The rich velvety timber of his voice and his astonishingly handsome face only added to his appeal.  
  
Even if he did not hide a tender heart beneath that aristocratic exterior and fierce intelligence, she knew that she would find him attractive. But the combination was more than she could bear and Romiël knew that in only a few days she'd come to fancy him quite terribly.  
  
The stern, logical part of her mind that had kept her alive in the prison, reminded her that her infatuation was probably due to Thranduil being the first Elf who had lifted her into freedom after her escape from Mordor.  
  
But the other part of her mind, the sentimental romantic part that had spent 700 years locked away, told her that her attraction had nothing to do with gratitude and everything to do with the extraordinary Elf that Thranduil was. It also ignored the logical part that reminded her that she was but a commoner and Thranduil was a King.  
  
She watched, fascinated as he slipped a thin dagger between the window and the frame, unlocking the catch that held the window fast. Where had he learned such techniques, Romiël wondered. Was he a thief as well as a king?  
  
Quietly, Thranduil eased the window open and slipped gracefully inside. Romiël waited, her ears straining for the slightest sound, but she heard nothing. After several moments her leg began to feel the strain of holding up her weight. Since she still could not use her splinted leg, she lip/hopped with her crutch over to the chair, silently cursing her injury. At least her broken arm was mending quickly now. Alede had said that the splint need only stay on a couple more days.  
  
A thump startled her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see Thranduil standing triumphantly before her.  
  
She looked around. "Where . . . did you drop from the sky?" she asked, her lips curling into an amused, but perplexed smile.  
  
"I had to avoid being seen," he said with a mischievous wink.  
  
Romiël laughed as he produced a cloth wrapped bundle from behind his back. Obviously he had enjoyed his little adventure.  
  
Together they tore into the still warm sweet cakes, the caramelized sugar crumbled on their lips and melted on their tongues. Nothing had tasted this sweat to the she-Elf in centuries and she closed her eyes in rapture. When she opened them finally, Romiël found that Thranduil was watching her as much as she had been watching him.  
  
She set her honey cake down, her mouth suddenly dry.  
  
Thranduil set his down as well, looking into her eyes, now gone as dark as rain clouds, but certainly not as cold. Heat shimmered in the air between them, an attraction that was as strong as it was sudden.  
  
But then he had never been a patient Elf.  
  
"My wife died," he said without preamble and across from him, Romiel's eyes widened in surprise. "She was killed by a Greymalcin, though I did not know it at the time. I tried over and over to heal her with the same method that I used on you. But it failed."  
  
Romiël let out the breath she had been holding and nodded in understanding.  
  
"That is why you had such a look of guilt upon your face yesterday, because it worked with me, but not with her. I am sorry for your loss," she added softly.  
  
He sighed. It was such a soft and mournful sound, she nearly did not hear it. "Thank you," he replied.  
  
"No, it is I, who thanks you. You have given me release from my pain and the strength to wish for a better life." Her eyes dropped then and she said sadly, "I lost my husband as well."  
  
"In Mordor?"  
  
"Hmm? Oh, no," she shook her head, trying to shake away the memories as she did so. "He was not captured. He was human. So, I lost him to the slow march of time that wreaks such havoc upon men and leaves the First Born to carry on alone."  
  
Thranduil was stunned. He had not known that she had been married, let alone to a human. He looked at her carefully. What could have made her wish to marry a human? Though he would have liked to ask her, something held him back.  
  
"I am sorry for your loss as well." He hesitated. "Did you have a child?"  
  
Romiël nodded, a wistful smile upon her face as she remembered. "My little girl was only two when I was captured. I do not think she ever understood what happened to me. Our . . . connection," she did not use the word 'song' that would have been impolite, even though she was only speaking of the song between mother and child. "Our connection was not strong because she was so young. I think she grew up believing that I had abandoned her and gone to the West. She never seemed to be able to understand me. I tried," Romiël said with remembered anguish. "I tried so hard to make her understand, to tell her where I was, what had happened to me. But she did not comprehend and I felt her death long ago. Now . . ." her breath caught in her throat, "there is no one."  
  
Thranduil could feel her pain as if it were a cold wind. He tried to imagine what it must have been like, endless day after endless day in that prison with only her anguish and suffering for bitter company.  
  
Thranduil stood abruptly, moving his chair around so that he could be closer to her. He reached out, taking her good hand in his warm ones, his twilight gaze boring into her with its intensity. He stroked a thumb gently across the frail skin of her hand, the gesture filled with sympathy, with a shared loneliness.  
  
"Will you share song with me, Lady?"  
  
Romiël felt the heat flood her face, though she knew that he did not mean what she wanted him to mean. But it was difficult with his brilliant eyes gazing at hers to not have the sweet, hot emotions flood through her.  
  
"I . . . Alede had told me that many of the healers were using song to help the members of my clan. I had wondered who would wish to work with me . . ."  
  
"I wish to," Thranduil said and there was just enough iron in his voice that Romiël thought he might make it a command if she refused. Though her rebellious spirit was beginning to awaken, she knew that she would not refuse.  
  
Nevertheless. "We are strangers, you and I," Romiël said and there was strength in her own voice as well.  
  
Thranduil snorted softly, amused and determined all at the same time.  
  
"We are hardly strangers. We may have only met a few days ago, Lady, but I am well acquainted with courage and strength, and . . ." his hand drifted up to the side of her face, "and true beauty."  
  
The heat drained from Romiel's face and pooled elsewhere, making her feel slightly dizzy. She tipped her chin up so that he might not see just how much his words, his nearness effected her. Though it would matter little. In a moment he would know all of her thoughts.  
  
"Yes," she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I will share song with you. But I warn you," and her eyes were stormy once again, but with a different emotion, "it is a dark path you seek to tread. I am damaged in ways that cannot be seen and cannot be reset." She held up her splinted arm.  
  
"Then let us heal this damage and I will lift you out of darkness." Thranduil took a hold of the arms of her chair and without any effort, dragged it around so that it was facing his own. Her knees ended up sandwiched between his and when he leaned forward, he slid one hand around to the back of her neck and touched his forehead against hers.  
  
Romiël's eyes fluttered shut, unable to keep them open with him so near. She took a deep breath and opened her thoughts . . .  
  
And the sun flooded into the dark pathways of her mind, burning the shadows away with an intensity that set her on fire. Romiël cried out and her hand flayed around in desperation until one that was nearly twice the size of her own and certainly twice as strong, caught it.  
  
She clung to Thranduil as his song blazed hotly into her soul and gave herself over to him.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
A/N: Well, I guess sharing song with Thranduil would be a bit . . . intense, wouldn't it? lol *big grin*  
  
As I'm sure you've already guessed, I adore Thranduil. If there is a Mary Sue in my stories, it is Thranduil. While I love his good qualities - passion, fierceness, strength - sadly, he gets his bad qualities from me - impatience, intolerance, bossiness and a general air that everyone should do my bidding. lol! Actually, I'm not *quite* that bad, but I do have my days. ;) (And just for the record, Thecla disagrees with this self- analogy, but I think that's just because she's so sweet. ;) lol!  
  
Special thanks to Angaloth and JastaElf for the identity of the bearded Elf in Tolkien's history. It is indeed Cirdan, I just couldn't remember the name and was too lazy to look it up. :D  
  
And special thanks to all of you for reading! This was just a something that I had to try out. Thranduil still intimidates me waaaaaaay too much to write a full story about him. But writing this little sidepiece is really quite fun. I apologize for the lack of plot - I'm sort of testing the waters, as it were. ~ Nebride 


	4. Chapter 4

HEART OF A KING  
  
Chapter 4 ~ Four days after the return from Mordor, late afternoon  
  
Thranduil laid Romiël down on the bed gently and pulled a soft blanket over her. She was utterly exhausted after their sharing of song and the king was feeling rather fatigued himself.  
  
And feeling guilty as well.  
  
He had intended their first session to be very gentle, but once inside her mind, the pleasure of sharing song with someone again overrode his caution and he had blazed a trail into her psyche.  
  
Romiël was a fascinating woman. Her mind was as deep and complex as the sea and she had a will to equal his own. She had been correct in her assessment that there had been much damage to her. But her strength and bravery were astounding. She would not crumble as Unilyn had.  
  
"Thranduil?"  
  
He paused, his hand on the door. Behind him, he heard Romiël struggle to sit up in the bed and he turned to face her.  
  
"Thank you," she said quietly, "and stop feeling guilty."  
  
He smiled a little ruefully at that and nodded. Without saying anything though, he stepped through the door and closed it gently behind him.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Romiël fell back in the bed with a thump. She was utterly drained, but more at peace with herself than she had been for centuries. True, Thranduil's fierce probing had stirred up a million demons that had been lurking at the back of her mind. But she had lived with those demons so long they were quite familiar to her.  
  
What was not familiar to her was the feeling of unity and protection. She no longer faced those demons alone.  
  
Letting out a soft sigh, Romiël allowed her eyelids to drift partially shut. Her champion would be back tomorrow. They would work together every day. It would be a long hard road, but Romiël was determined to get back her peace of mind, her confidence. The Dark Lord had stolen 700 years of her life. He would not steal another moment, not if she could help it.  
  
She blinked lazily and just as her fatigued mind drifted off to sleep, a thrill of excitement swept through her. In her contact with Thranduil's mind she had realized something. He was just as attracted to her, as she was to him and he had made no effort to hide it.  
  
With that delightful thought, she drifted off to sleep, sleeping so heavily that she did not wake when a servant brought her the evening meal, nor did she wake all of that night.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Thranduil stopped pacing the floor as the sun began to rise. He had not slept the entire night, had not even gone to bed. There had been no rest for his mind either as he relived over and over the way he had burned through Romiël's mind the day before like a forest fire.  
  
"What was I thinking!?" he snarled at the wall. Not only had he gone much too fast for her delicate condition, but he had also shown her his attraction to her. He was a king and she but a commoner. He could have no feelings for her!  
  
But what exactly was his interest in her anyway?  
  
It was rare for his people to take a second love. Was he driven by blind desire then? Did lust cloud his mind so that he wished to take advantage of this helpless, yet willing she-Elf?  
  
In frustration, he stepped out onto his balcony, resting strong hands upon the rail and looked out over the kingdom. Laughter drew his gaze downward and he saw his son and Alede walking on the path. They held hands and seemed completely at peace with each other. As they neared the Great Hall, Legolas drew the wizardess close for a kiss and then spoke softly in her ear. Whatever he said made Alede laugh and Thranduil watched them part company with a wistful expression on his face.  
  
Legolas was not the least bit troubled by his betrothed's lack of nobility. On the contrary, rarely had there been a more loving couple.  
  
Thranduil frowned. He was a very independent Elf and he would be the last to admit that he was lonely. But in truth, he felt isolated. The centuries since his wife's death had been long and difficult. He missed her companionship.  
  
Is that what he sought in Romiël?  
  
Staring at the steps that Alede had mounted, Thranduil briefly wished he could talk to her. He could not express himself to Legolas. He knew his son well enough to know that once Thranduil's interest in Romiël became apparent, there would be trouble. Legolas had been very close to his mother and no doubt would see Thranduil's actions as a betrayal of her memory.  
  
"But a memory is a poor companion," Thranduil whispered.  
  
But Alede . . . he recalled their conversation from the other day. Alede had a calm logical mind that he found soothing.  
  
Not that I will ever tell her that, he thought with a wry grin.  
  
He did not easily open up to people though, so speaking with Alede about a matter so close to his heart would be out of the question.  
  
Dragging a chair over to the rail, he sat down to consider the matter. What would Alede say, he wondered, trying to imagine the kind of question she would ask?  
  
Closing his eyes, Thranduil smiled ruefully. Alede would be direct.  
  
*How do you feel about Romiël?*  
  
How did he feel about her? True, he was attracted to her. But why exactly? It was obvious that she had been beautiful at one time and her body shapely. She was so emaciated and ravaged by her time in Mordor now, that that beauty was not immediately apparent. If it was lust that drove him, there were far more attractive and healthy women right here in Eryn Culhallas that would quite eagerly share his bed.  
  
So was it companionship that he sought? But again that made no sense. Romiël was quite damaged by her experience in Mordor and would not be capable of any kind of true relationship for many months. Thranduil had worked with enough prisoners of Orcs to know that they depended upon their healers with an almost childlike need. It would be a long time before Romiël was ready for the give and take of a healthy relationship.  
  
Which left only one conclusion.  
  
Thranduil was attracted to her mind. Even before he had plunged into her song, he had sensed her strength, her will to survive. She was a fighter, just like he was.  
  
To finally know someone with a spirit as fierce as his own was more than compelling.  
  
It was intoxicating.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Thranduil strode briskly into Romiël's room after she bid him enter.  
  
"What is wrong?" she asked immediately.  
  
"Nothing," he said quickly, but he refused to sit down when she gestured. "All is well. How do you feel this morning? I fatigued you yesterday and I apologize. I think we had best continue tomorrow. You can rest today . . ."  
  
"No," Romiël said, shaking her head. "We will continue today, if you please. I know you felt guilty for . . ."  
  
Thranduil turned impatiently. "That is beside the matter. It is important that we build your strength gradually."  
  
Romiël gaped at him. "Are you abandoning me?" she whispered. But then just as suddenly, she knew that was not correct. "No," she said decisively, pushing aside the insecurities learned in Mordor. "You would not abandon me. But you are troubled . . ." She gazed up at him speculatively, trying to pierce through that regal mask that he wore as armor.  
  
"You are much too perceptive," Thranduil said after an uncomfortable pause.  
  
She reached out a hand and touched his arm. "Not necessarily. But you forget. Our . . . song yesterday went both ways. While you were investigating my mind, I in turn was learning the map of yours . . ."  
  
Thranduil looked up.  
  
"You are embarrassed for being attracted to a commoner, are you not?" Romiël said with a defiant tip of her chin.  
  
Thranduil made an inarticulate protest, but Romiël cut him off.  
  
"Do not deny it. I am well acquainted with the prejudices of Elvin nobility." She fixed him with a critical eye, belaying the argument she sensed coming. "But, I will overlook your bias, for we are equally flawed. Only one of the Valar would be willing to put up with your temperament. And I am hardly one of the Valar."  
  
"That you are certainly not," Thranduil said with some heat.  
  
But Romiël ignored his sharp tone as a surge of her old confidence shot through her.  
  
"When I am well," she said with a slight curve of her well shaped lips, "I will show you why I won not only the heart of countless Elves and a man, but the admiration of our clan's Lord as well. And now," she ignored the thunderstruck look on Thranduil's face, flipping her hair off of her shoulders coquettishly, "shall we begin?"  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
A/N: lol! Well, it looks like Romiël won that one. :) Does Thranduil stand a chance? Find out in chapter 5! :D  
  
I apologize for the sporadic nature of the updates on this story. My muse is still happily vacationing in the Caribbean and I'm having trouble getting her to settle down and concentrate on Elves. (She seems to have developed an interest in a certain pirate . . ;) )  
  
I'd also like to thank you for the wonderful comments on "Elvin Friend". The timing was perfect since I had just received *another* rejection slip in the mail *sniff* :( so I definitely needed something to boost my spirits.  
  
I am sorry for any mistakes in "Elvin Friend". The decision to post it was purely spontaneous (in the middle of the night after my clever hubby found a way to get us onto the internet using stone knives, bear skins and a modem from the 16th century :D ) and I completely forgot that it was not yet beta read. Sorry!  
  
Take care and I'll see you next time. ~ :D Nebride 


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